


Basement Walk of Shame

by obaewankenope (rexthranduil)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Based on beginning of pilot episode, I DIDN'T DESERVE T H I S, I'm so sorry okay, M/M, Percival did not deserve this, That showed up when it WASN'T FUCKING WANTED, The X-Files crossover no-one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 03:51:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9698840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexthranduil/pseuds/obaewankenope
Summary: The basement of the FBI building is, as always, a stiflingly awkward walk of shame. It feels very much like that time he’d had to leave his girlfriend’s house, after being caught by her mother in the morning, and not being able to leave without a cheerful breakfast where he’d wished the ground would just open and swallow him up please.Except this is worse.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr is a horrible hellsite that gives me horrible ideas I s2g

The basement of the FBI building is, as always, a stiflingly awkward walk of shame. It feels very much like that time he’d had to leave his girlfriend’s house, after being caught by her mother in the morning, and not being able to leave without a cheerful breakfast where he’d wished the ground would just open and swallow him up _please_.

Except this is worse.

It feels as though every one of Percival’s colleagues that he passes on the way down just _know_ his destination, like he’s got some sort of cosmic sign above his head and really- _not okay_. Heck, maybe there is; it wouldn’t surprise him to be honest. 

The elevator is broke, the only one that actually goes down to the basement —  what the fuck? Is he cursed? He’s cursed. Of course he is, _Jesus Christ_ — so he’s forced to take two separate elevators down to the atrium and then rely on the stairs to take him the rest of the way.

Surprise, surprise it’s incredibly _not_ fun. Whoever would have guessed _that_ huh?

The corridor from the stairs in the basement is darker than any of the others in the building, a testament to how few people work down here that the lights flicker ominously — the fuck is with the horror movie atmosphere? He’s going to have to ‘ _suggest_ ’ those lights get fixed for God’s sake — and most of the rooms are full of archives.

This really is the dead-end of the job spectrum as an FBI agent. Percy’s family would never forgive him, but he’s so tempted to quit now, _before_ he gets sucked into this disgraceful career suicide.

The office he’s assigned to is at the end of the hall, a long way from the elevator that’s wedged open — not broke apparently, just fucked with by some _asshole_ — and he has the sudden urge to turn on his heel and ascend back to the level of sanity; job security be fucking _damned_.

But, unfortunately, Percival isn’t that sort of person, so he bites back a curse and makes his way towards the office, inwardly lamenting the things he does to keep his family happy and proud of him. He brings his hand up, already curled into a fist, to knock on the wooden door only for the door to open in a whirlwind of movement as his fist arcs forward and-

Hits his new partner square in the face.

Percival stares for a moment, unable to actually process the fact that, yes- he’s just hit his partner in the face when trying to knock on a door, and also, yes- his new partner is male and _how did he not know that already?_

His new partner is also really fucking hot. Even if he’s currently clutching his nose and staring at Percival with wide shock-filled eyes.

Shit.

“I—” he starts, only for a loud crash from behind his new partner to cut him off. Instantly he’s moving, powering into the room, grabbing his partner by the arm and hauling him around behind him as he draws his weapon with his other hand.

“Wait! Don’t!” His partner shouts, voice nasally and muffled by his hands on his nose. He pulls a hand away and grabs Percival’s arm with a surprisingly strong grip. “He’s not dangerous!”

“What’s not dangerous?” Percival asks, gun still pointing in the direction of the crash and he quickly takes in the general disarray of the office. It could have been one of the piles of boxes giving way but his new partner’s — honestly, he doesn’t even know his _name_ — reaction completely derails that thought process. “Do you have someone here?”

“Uh… not exactly,” his partner replies awkwardly, dropping the hand on his face now, revealing a young face complete with soft freckles, ginger-auburn hair and sea-green eyes.

Double shit.

“It’s just Niffle.”

Percival blinks. “Niffle,” he repeats, slowly. Ginger nods, almost shyly now that Percival is staring at him. “Who’s Niffle?” He asks.

Ginger beams at him suddenly, a thousand watt smile that’s nearly blinding and shitting _fuck_ \- Percival is so lost.

“He’s the basement ghost!” Ginger explains enthusiastically. “He’s been quite shy these past few weeks since- uh well- since I became a single agent again but, well, he’s known that we were getting another- well- you see- a new a-agent joining today.”

Percival stares, gun forgotten, at Ginger who keeps babbling awkwardly. He’s been partnered with a _lunatic_.

A very handsome lunatic.

Fucking shit. Percival _has_ been cursed. 

“Who are you?” Percival asks, cutting Ginger off. Ginger stares at him, eyes wide with surprise, a blossoming of hurt beginning to show. “I was given this assignment this morning,” he adds, lying through his teeth, to try and soften whatever offense his question causes.

“Oh,” Ginger says softly, blinking. “Oh right! Uh- well- I’m uh- I’m Agent Newton Scamander, but uh- call me- call me Newt please. I prefer that to be honest.” He smiles at Percival, eyes as bright as his smile.

Percival is so fucking lost.

“Percival Graves, Supervisory Special Agent,” Percival introduces himself, holding out a hand for Scamander to shake. The other agent takes a moment, hesitating visibly, before he reaches out and takes Percival’s outstretched hand in his own.

His skin is surprisingly warm and rough, with gun callouses and ones from other work. Percival catalogues that information away, hiding his surprise at the firm grip of Scamander’s handshake. The other agent honestly looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over.

He looks delicate but is obviously not. If he weren’t ‘seven sheets to the wind’ of crazy, Percival could easily imagine dating him — mixing work with pleasure was not something he did either so, even if Scamander weren’t crazy as shit, he wouldn’t date him. 

He must _never_ let his family meet Scamander. Percival knows that his mother would casually disregard every workplace rule Percival has lived by to set him up with Scamander. It’s the smile.

Shitting shit.

He’s so fucked.

**Author's Note:**

> I apparently can’t even stick to how the pilot episode actually went either. Because we all know Newt cannot be that ordered and would totally do this shit. IDEK.


End file.
